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“I thoughtIwas supposed to be doing the flirting.” He fiddles with the coaster in front of him, spins it one, two, three, four times. “What’s your name?”
“Raine.”
“As in the weather?”
“As inLorrainebut cooler.”
“Lorraine is a nice enough name.”
“Raine is better.”
He grins at me. “If you say so,Lorraine.”
“I say so.”
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Raine.” He stills the coaster, then looks over at me. “Would you be opposed to me continuing to flirt with you by buying you a drink?”
My day has been spectacularly shitty, but at least it’s taken a positive turn. “With a job like mine, it’s unthinkable to turn down free drinks,” I say. “Freeanything, really. Except drugs, of course. It’s surprising how often I’m offered free drugs.” Jack raises his eyebrows. “That’s not to say Ibuydrugs. I don’t. What I mean is I don’tdodrugs, free or otherwise.” I pause to take a quick breath. “What I’m trying to say is, yes, you can buy me a drink, though you might not want to now.”
His eyes linger on mine for a moment before he responds. “I still want to,” he says.
“Oh, well, that’s good news.”
He props an elbow on the bar and rests his cheek against his hand. The wordlastis tattooed across his knuckles. I eye his left hand, which is still fiddling with the coaster in front of him.call, it says.last call.Guess the Irish really do love their pubs.
“What is your job exactly?” he asks. “Are you in a band?”
“Oh, no, I’m a solo artist. Well, a traveling musician.” I’m nevercertain how to explain my job when it comes up. Most people—my parents included—don’t consider it a job at all. “Actually, that makes it sound fancier than it is. I’m just a street performer.”
“I bet you’ve got a lot of stories to tell,” he says.
“More than I know what to do with, but I’m not sure they’re any good.”
“If they’re half as interesting as you seem to be, I’m sure they are.”
I don’t know where this guy came from, but I’m glad he’s here. I’m about to say as much when the bartender returns from the kitchen and stops in front of us with a scowl.
“What are you doing here, Jackie?” he says. “It’s Friday night. I told you to go have fun.”
Jack grins at him. “I am having fun, Ollie Wollie. I’m buying this here girl a drink.”
The bartender glances at me. “It’s just Ollie,” he says. “And I meant have fun somewhereelse,” he adds to Jack. “Somewhere with people your age.”
Jack turns to me. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, Raine, but how old are you?”
“I don’t mind.” I’ve never understood why some people do. “I’m twenty-eight.”
“Hear that, Ollie Wollie? Raine’s only a year older than me.”
Ollie ignores him. “If you’re gonna let this gobshite buy you a drink, I recommend ordering the most expensive thing you can think of.”
Whatever the dynamic is between Ollie and Jack, it’s amusing to say the least. “Maybe next time. I think I’ll have another Guinness for now, please.”
Ollie grunts. He takes my empty glass from the bar and grabs a clean one from nearby.
“Aren’t you going to ask whatIwant?” Jack says.
Ollie sets my pint aside. “I will, yeah,” he says, then walks away.
